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While a Harris victory would no doubt ensure smoother negotiations, there’s still Congress to deal with.
Less than a week after election night in the U.S., the United Nations’ annual climate conference begins in Azerbaijan. COP29, as this year’s conference is called, has climate finance and carbon markets on the agenda. It’s no secret that the outcome of the U.S. presidential election could shift the tenor of negotiations significantly on both topics. Everyone knows there’s one candidate who’s better for the climate and one who will be much, much worse.
Even if Harris wins, however, the United States may well continue to shirk its global climate finance obligations. If the U.S. can’t deliver on what it promises at COP29, it may not matter what actually happens there.
Negotiators at COP29 are tasked with setting what’s called the New Collective Quantified Goal on climate finance, a goalpost for the amount of cash governments must put up to meet global climate investment needs. Global South countries excluding China have suggested that they require more than $1 trillion per year in external finance to meet their climate targets. An agreed-upon NCQG will also help all countries flesh out the latest iteration of their national climate plans, also known as Nationally Determined Contributions, as required by the Paris climate agreement.
And yet preliminary discussions over the summer were inconclusive, not just on the NCQG target itself but also on which countries are expected to contribute and what kinds of financing (e.g. public, private, loans, grants) will count toward it. More controversially to some climate activists and civil society groups, negotiators are also using COP29 to finalize a framework for the implementation of Article 6 of the Paris Agreement, which calls for the creation of a global carbon credit market, which countries could use to trade emissions reductions and contribute to each others’ NDCs.
To put it simply: If Donald Trump wins, not much of this will matter. President Biden’s negotiators can still endorse ambitious NCQG and Article 6 targets, but there’s no evidence a second Trump administration will commit to delivering on them. Should Trump win, the U.S. will almost certainly cut itself out of the global climate finance architecture a second time. The Heritage Foundation’s Project 2025 plan, authored largely by Trump associates, not only calls for the U.S. to slash global climate and development funding (as Trump already called for in his first term) but also to withdraw from global negotiating fora entirely. In the breach, Trump administration diplomats will likely stress the importance of gas and non-renewable energy technologies (such as carbon capture) with an emphasis on ensuring domestic energy security and affordability, even as they prepare to gut most if not all of the Inflation Reduction Act and the Bipartisan Infrastructure Law.
A Kamala Harris victory next week will assuredly be much better for both global emissions reductions and the climate diplomacy landscape. While she has outlined no specific proposals for global climate policy in particular, there is also no evidence that she will renege on any U.S. global commitments made in the past four years or attempt to repeal any climate laws.
As president, she will likely preserve President Biden’s key global climate and development policy initiatives, including the Just Energy Transition Partnerships and the Partnership for Global Infrastructure and Investment. She will also likely support the Biden administration’s push to see the multilateral development banks support more investments in climate and development, particularly through mobilizing the private sector. The current World Bank President, Ajay Banga, was nominated by the United States in early 2023 after serving as co-chair of the Partnership for Central America, a private sector-backed economic development initiative launched by Vice President Harris herself as part of her broader engagement with the region. Their shared history suggests that they will continue collaborating on good terms if Harris is elected.
While none of this is directly connected to COP29 (and putting doubts about the efficacy of these programs aside), it speaks to the Biden-Harris administration’s commitment to, at the very least, platforming global climate and development issues. But will Harris actually deliver on the U.S.’s commitments to the NCQG or otherwise meaningfully increase the amount of public spending devoted to global climate and development goals? Probably not ― although in that case, Congress will be the more likely culprit, not her.
Attempts to appropriate additional funds for global climate programs are cursed with a severe case of legislative inertia. Congress did not significantly slash funding for global climate priorities during the first Trump presidency, but it also did not raise it much during the Biden presidency. Last year’s bipartisan debt limit negotiations didn’t help, of course. But even in the early Biden presidency, when Democrats had their narrow trifecta, Congress massively undershot Biden’s budget requests for global climate-related priorities. In fiscal year 2022, Congress passed less than half of what Biden requested; since then, presidential requests for global climate spending have ballooned in size, while appropriations have stayed flat.
This divergence reflects a stable short-term equilibrium: The Biden administration can showcase the full range of its commitments and bona fides and blame Congress for its failure to deliver on any of them, while Congress can coast on the spending cap deals it made to avoid government shutdowns. But it also ignores the planet-sized elephant in the room — that there’s been no new spending on mitigating climate change. Regardless of who is president, there’s only so much discretionary funding they can ever reallocate toward priority programs absent additional appropriations.
(Here it seems pertinent to remind everyone that the U.S. has never endorsed the global consensus framework of “common but differentiated responsibilities,” which would mean acknowledging a quasi-legal obligation to provide climate finance to Global South countries, on account of the fact that Congress has never been enthusiastic about this. The chances that anyone changes their tone are slim.)
In summary, even if Harris comes out on top on Tuesday, the U.S. will still be stuck in a holding pattern with respect to its global climate priorities. This puts the Biden administration’s COP29 negotiators in a vise: Pushing for a low NCQG gives other countries ground to criticize the U.S.’s inadequate ambition and care for the Global South relative to its ability to contribute, but pushing for an ambitious NCQG also gives other countries greater reason to criticize the U.S. if it fails to deliver. Ambition was never the problem; it has always been the delivery.
Optimistically, a Harris victory at least prevents the U.S. from being a roadblock to other countries’ climate action. But at a time when major Global North donor countries are cutting their aid budgets, American unwillingness to finance solutions to global climate and development challenges makes the rest of the world more dependent on private capital and, in turn, more vulnerable to market downturns, interest rate hikes, and capital outflows. (Alternatively, it makes Global South countries more dependent on petrostate wealth and Chinese imports for macroeconomic stability, although they may be less able to count on large Chinese capital inflows from here on out.) As expert report after expert report has detailed, climate change mitigation or adaptation simply will not happen at scale across the Global South without substantial new external financing.
Still, in lieu of new financing, a Harris administration could stress that efforts to catalyze private investment in the Global South (including through voluntary carbon markets) and reform global taxation also contribute to global decarbonization. And it could continue to argue that the U.S. is doing its part to decarbonize if it manages to pass more landmark climate and green industrialization laws like the Inflation Reduction Act. But it would be false to argue ― as President Biden and Treasury Secretary Janet Yellen have done at times, particularly in 2022 ― that the Inflation Reduction Act helps lower the cost of clean tech uptake across the Global South. This is not true — the credit for making clean technology, particularly solar energy, cheaper and more accessible for the Global South goes decisively to China. The U.S. is nowhere close to becoming a major clean technology exporter or a bona fide partner in green industrial transformation for any Global South country, policymakers’ pretensions to the contrary.
One prominent member of Harris’s advisory team, President Biden’s former National Economic Council Director Brian Deese, is trying to change that, advancing ideas like a “Clean Energy Marshall Plan” as an opportunity to deliver on both domestic industrial policy priorities and demands for global leadership vis-a-vis China; his writing exemplifies how American climate diplomacy is being subsumed into national security planning. (Deese is also a Heatmap contributor.) Tactically, this might work in the near-term: The bill to reauthorize the Development Finance Corporation, which would boost the U.S.’s ability to invest in decarbonization-related priorities across the Global South and particularly critical minerals supply chains, cleared the House Foreign Affairs Committee with bipartisan support over the summer. But this is not a strategy that on its own centers the climate and development needs of Global South countries.
So while a Democratic victory next week would certainly be a step toward continued climate action, and while what the Biden administration negotiates at COP29 will at least set a floor for future U.S. commitments (even if that floor is performative), we won’t see a major departure from the status quo unless a Harris administration can convince legislators that American leadership requires a lot more American money.
“We are not going back” ― this much is true. But it would be nice to go forward, too.
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Current conditions: Bosnia’s capital of Sarajevo is blanketed in a layer of toxic smog • Temperatures in Perth, in Western Australia, could hit 106 degrees Fahrenheit this weekend • It is cloudy in Washington, D.C., where lawmakers are scrambling to prevent a government shutdown.
The weather has gotten so weird that the U.S. National Oceanic and Atmospheric Administration is holding internal talks about how to adjust its models to produce more accurate forecasts, the Financial Timesreported. Current models are based on temperature swings observed over one part of the Pacific Ocean that have for years correlated consistently with specific weather phenomena across the globe, but climate change seems to be disrupting that cause and effect pattern, making it harder to predict things like La Niña and El Niño. Many forecasters had expected La Niña to appear by now and help cool things down, but that has yet to happen. “It’s concerning when this region we’ve studied and written all these papers on is not related to all the impacts you’d see with [La Niña],” NOAA’s Michelle L’Heureux told the FT. “That’s when you start going ‘uh-oh’ there may be an issue here we need to resolve.”
There is quite a lot of news coming out of the Department of Energy as the year (and the Biden administration) comes to an end. A few recent updates:
Walmart, the world’s largest retailer, does not expect to meet its 2025 or 2030 emissions targets, and is putting the blame on policy, infrastructure, and technology limitations. The company previously pledged to cut its emissions by 35% by next year, and 65% by the end of the decade. Emissions in 2023 were up 4% year-over-year.
Walmart
“While we continue to work toward our aspirational target of zero operational emissions by 2040, progress will not be linear … and depends not only on our own initiatives but also on factors beyond our control,” Walmart’s statement said. “These factors include energy policy and infrastructure in Walmart markets around the world, availability of more cost-effective low-GWP refrigeration and HVAC solutions, and timely emergence of cost-effective technologies for low-carbon heavy tractor transportation (which does not appear likely until the 2030s).”
BlackRock yesterday said it is writing down the value of its Global Renewable Power Fund III following the failure of Northvolt and SolarZero, two companies the fund had invested in. Its net internal rate of return was -0.3% at the end of the third quarter, way down from 11.5% in the second quarter, according toBloomberg. Sectors like EV charging, transmission, and renewable energy generation and storage have been “particularly challenged,” executives said, and some other renewables companies in the portfolio have yet to get in the black, meaning their valuations may be “more subjective and sensitive to evolving dynamics in the industry.”
Flies may be more vulnerable to climate change than bees are, according to a new study published in the Journal of Melittology. The fly haters among us might shrug at the finding, but the researchers insist flies are essential pollinators that help bolster ecosystem biodiversity and agriculture. “It’s time we gave flies some more recognition for their role as pollinators,” said lead author Margarita López-Uribe, who is the Lorenzo Langstroth Early Career Associate Professor of Entomology at Penn State. The study found bees can tolerate higher temperatures than flies, so flies are at greater risk of decline as global temperatures rise. “In alpine and subarctic environments, flies are the primary pollinator,” López-Uribe said. “This study shows us that we have entire regions that could lose their primary pollinator as the climate warms, which could be catastrophic for those ecosystems.”
“No one goes to the movies because they want to be scolded.” –Heatmap’s Jeva Lange writes about the challenges facing climate cinema, and why 2024 might be the year the climate movie grew up.
Whether you agree probably depends on how you define “climate movie” to begin with.
Climate change is the greatest story of our time — but our time doesn’t seem to invent many great stories about climate change. Maybe it’s due to the enormity and urgency of the subject matter: Climate is “important,” and therefore conscripted to the humorless realms of journalism and documentary. Or maybe it’s because of a misunderstanding on the part of producers and storytellers, rooted in an outdated belief that climate change still needs to be explained to an audience, when in reality they don’t need convincing. Maybe there’s just not a great way to have a character mention climate change and not have it feel super cringe.
Whatever the reason, between 2016 and 2020, less than 3% of film and TV scripts used climate-related keywords during their runtime, according to an analysis by media researchers at the University of Southern California. (The situation isn’t as bad in literature, where cli-fi has been going strong since at least 2013.) At least on the surface, this on-screen avoidance of climate change continued in 2024. One of the biggest movies of the summer, Twisters, had an extreme weather angle sitting right there, but its director, Lee Isaac Chung, went out of his way to ensure the film didn’t have a climate change “message.”
I have a slightly different take on the situation, though — that 2024 was actuallyfull of climate movies, and, I’d argue, that they’re getting much closer to the kinds of stories a climate-concerned individual should want on screen.
That’s because for the most part, when movies and TV shows have tackled the topic of climate change in the past, it’s been with the sort of “simplistic anger-stoking and pathos-wringing” that The New Yorker’s Richard Brody identified in 2022’s Don’t Look Up, the Adam McKay satire that became the primary touchpoint for scripted climate stories. At least it was kind of funny: More overt climate stories like last year’s Foe, starring Saoirse Ronan and Paul Mescal, and Extrapolations, the Apple TV+ show in which Meryl Streep voices a whale, are so self-righteous as to be unwatchable (not to mention, no fun).
But what if we widened our lens and weren’t so prescriptive? Then maybe Furiosa, this spring’s Mad Max prequel, becomes a climate change movie. The film is set during a “near future” ecological collapse, and it certainly makes you think about water scarcity and our overreliance on a finite extracted resource — but it also makes you think about how badass the Octoboss’ kite is. The same goes for Dune: Part Two, which made over $82 million in its opening weekend and is also a recognizable environmental allegory featuring some cool worms. Even Ghostbusters: Frozen Empire, a flop that most people have already memory-holed, revisitedThe Day After Tomorrow’s question of, “What if New York City got really, really, really cold?”
Two 2024 animated films with climate themes could even compete against each other at the Academy Awards next year. Dreamworks Animation’s The Wild Robot, one of the centerpiece films at this fall’s inaugural Climate Film Festival, is set in a world where sea levels have risen to submerge the Golden Gate Bridge, and it impresses on its audience the importance of protecting the natural world. And in Gints Zilbalodis’ Flow, one of my favorite films of the year, a cat must band together with other animals to survive a flood.
Flow also raises the question of whether a project can unintentionally be a climate movie. Zilbalodis told me that making a point about environmental catastrophe wasn’t his intention — “I can’t really start with the message, I have to start with the character,” he said — and to him, the water is a visual metaphor in an allegory about overcoming your fears.
But watching the movie in a year when more than a thousand people worldwide have died in floods, and with images of inundated towns in North Carolina still fresh in mind, it’s actually climate change itself that makes one watch Flow as a movie about climate change. (I’m not the only one with this interpretation, either: Zilbalodis told me he’d been asked by one young audience member if the flood depicted in his film is “the future.”)
Perhaps this is how we should also consider Chung’s comments about Twisters. While nobody in the film says the words “climate change” or “global warming,” the characters note that storms are becoming exceptional — “we've never seen tornadoes like this before,” one says. Despite the director’s stated intention not to make the movie “about” climate change, it becomes a climate movie by virtue of what its audiences have experienced in their own lives.
Still, there’s that niggling question: Do movies like these, which approach climate themes slant-wise, really count? To help me decide, I turned to Sam Read, the executive director of the Sustainable Entertainment Alliance, an advocacy consortium that encourages environmental awareness both on set and on screen. He told me that to qualify something as a “climate” movie or TV show, some research groups look to see if climate change exists in the world of the story or whether the characters acknowledge it. Other groups consider climate in tiers, such as whether a project has a climate premise, theme, or simply a moment.
The Sustainable Entertainment Alliance, however, has no hard rules. “We want to make sure that we support creatives in integrating these stories in whatever way works for them,” Read told me.
Read also confirmed my belief that there seemed to be an uptick in movies this year that were “not about climate change but still deal with things that feel very climate-related, like resource extraction.” There was even more progress on this front in television, he pointed out: True Detective: Night Country wove in themes of environmentalism, pollution, mining, and Indigenous stewardship; the Max comedy Hacks featured an episode about climate change this season; and Industry involved a storyline about taking a clean energy company public, with some of the characters even attending COP. Even Doctor Odyssey, a cruise ship medical drama that airs on USA, worked climate change into its script, albeit in ridiculous ways. (Also worth mentioning: The Netflix dating show Love is Blind cast Taylor Krause, who works on decarbonizing heavy industry at RMI.)
We can certainly do more. As many critics before me have written, it’s still important to draw a connection between things like environmental catastrophes and the real-world human causes of global warming. But the difference between something being “a climate movie” and propaganda — however true its message, or however well-intentioned — is thin. Besides, no one goes to the movies because they want to be scolded; we want to be moved and distracted and entertained.
I’ve done my fair share of complaining over the past few years about how climate storytelling needs to grow up. But lately I’ve been coming around to the idea that it’s not the words “climate change” appearing in a script that we need to be so focused on. As 2024’s slate of films has proven to me — or, perhaps, as this year’s extreme weather events have thrown into relief — there are climate movies everywhere.
Keep ‘em coming.
They might not be worried now, but Democrats made the same mistake earlier this year.
Permitting reform is dead in the 118th Congress.
It died earlier this week, although you could be forgiven for missing it. On Tuesday, bipartisan talks among lawmakers fell apart over a bid to rewrite parts of the National Environmental Policy Act. The changes — pushed for by Representative Bruce Westerman, chairman of the House Natural Resources Committee — would have made it harder for outside groups to sue to block energy projects under NEPA, a 1970 law that governs the country’s process for environmental decisionmaking.
When those talks died, they also killed a separate deal over permitting struck earlier this year between Senator Joe Manchin of West Virginia and Senator John Barrasso of Wyoming. That deal, as I detailed last week, would have loosened some federal rules around oil and gas drilling in exchange for a new, quasi-mandatory scheme to build huge amounts of long-distance transmission.
Rest in peace, I suppose. Even if lawmakers could not agree on NEPA changes, I think Republicans made a mistake by not moving forward with the Manchin-Barrasso deal. (I still believe that the standalone deal could have passed the Senate and the House if put to a vote.) At this point, I do not think we will see another shot at bipartisan permitting reform until at least late 2026, when the federal highway law will need fresh funding.
But it is difficult to get too upset about this failure because larger mistakes have since compounded the initial one. On Wednesday, Republican Speaker Mike Johnson’s bipartisan deal to fund the government — which is, after all, a much more fundamental task of governance than rewriting some federal permitting laws — fell apart, seemingly because Donald Trump and Elon Musk decided they didn’t like it. If I can indulge in the subjunctive for a moment: That breakdown might have likely killed any potential permitting deal, too. So even in a world where lawmakers somehow did strike a deal earlier this week, it might already be dead. (As I write this, the House GOP has reportedly reached a new deal to fund the government through March, which has weakened or removed provisions governing pharmacy benefit managers and limiting American investments in China.)
The facile reading of this situation is that Republicans now hold the advantage. The Trump administration will soon be able to implement some of the fossil fuel provisions in the Manchin-Barrasso deal through the administrative state. Trump will likely expand onshore and offshore drilling, will lease the government’s best acreage to oil and gas companies, and will approve as many liquified natural gas export terminals as possible. His administration will do so, however, without the enhanced legal protection that the deal would have provided — and while those protections are not a must-have, especially with a friendly Supreme Court, their absence will still allow environmental groups to try to run down the clock on some of Trump’s more ambitious initiatives.
Republicans believe that they will be able to get parts of permitting reform done in a partisan reconciliation bill next year. These efforts seem quite likely to run aground, at least as long as something like the current rules governing reconciliation bills hold. I have heard some crazy proposals on this topic — what if skipping a permitting fight somehow became a revenue-raiser for the federal government? — but even they do not touch the deep structure of NEPA in the way a bipartisan compromise could. As Westerman toldPolitico’s Josh Siegel: “We need 60 votes in the Senate to get real permitting reform … People are just going to have to come to an agreement on what permitting reform is.” In any case, Manchin and the Democrats already tried to reform the permitting system via a partisan reconciliation bill and found it essentially impossible.
Even if reconciliation fails, Republicans say, they will still be in a better negotiating position next year than this year because the party will control a few more Senate votes. But will they? The GOP will just have come off a difficult fight over tax reform. Twelve or 24 months from now, demands on the country’s electricity grid are likely to be higher than they are today, and the risk of blackouts will be higher than before. The lack of a robust transmission network will hinder the ability to build a massive new AI infrastructure, as some of Trump’s tech industry backers hope. But 12 or 24 months from now, too, Democrats — furious at Trump — are not going to be in a dealmaking mood, and Republicans have relatively few ways to bring them to the table.
In any case, savvy Republicans should have realized that it is important to get supply-side economic reforms done as early in a president’s four-year term as possible. Such changes take time to filter through the system and turn into real projects and real economic activity; passing the law as early as possible means that the president’s party can enjoy them and campaign on them.
All of it starts to seem more and more familiar. When Manchin and Barrasso unveiled their compromise earlier this year, Democrats didn’t act quickly on it. They felt confident that the window for a deal wouldn’t close — and they looked forward to a potential trifecta, when they would be able to get even more done (and reject some of Manchin’s fossil fuel-friendly compromises).
Democrats, I think, wound up regretting the cavalier attitude that they brought to permitting reform before Trump’s win. But now the GOP is acting the same way: It is rejecting compromises, believing that it will be able to strike a better deal on permitting issues during its forthcoming trifecta. That was a mistake when Democrats did it. I think it will be a mistake for Republicans, too.